The Thin Red Line
by lovetowritetoo
Summary: Complete story! Jane on the Run! This story is basically a fill-in-the-blanks for the events occurring right after RJ's death and Jane's flight. What happened to Jane in the days after? Jane finds himself emotionallly and physically in deep trouble. Will he ever see his friends again as his life is in danger and he's at the end of his rope?
1. Chapter 1

**The thin red line **

Welcome to my very first The Mentalist fanfic! I haven't written fanfiction in years, but the Red John-storyline and solution of it, got me back in the saddle.

This story is basically a fill-in-the-blanks for the events occurring right after RJ's death and Jane's flight. I couldn't accept the fact that the CBI-gang didn't see each other anymore right after these events and felt an urgent sense to fill in some of the questions lingering about.

So basically, this is my take on the first days after Jane's run and what might have happened afterwards. There are spoilers for:

6x07: The Great Red Dragon

6x08: Red John

Type of story: Angst/Hurt/Comfort

Written from Jane's POV

Characters: Jane, Lisbon, Van Pelt, Rigsby and Cho – in other words, all those that we love and care about.

Feedback is very much appreciated. This story is complete so I will be posting a new chapter on a very regular basis.

Thanks for paying attention!

**The Thin Red Line**

**Chapter 1 **

_Run Jane, Run! _

My lungs burst out of my body as it began to run instinctively, almost beyond my control. It was as if my entire system was no longer able to listen to my brain. My brain, so foggy and so confused, wouldn't control my limbs anymore. My brain wasn't functioning, a scary thought. And so I ran. I just ran away, even though there was a foggy sense somehow that I knew what I was doing.

The adrenaline holding me upright in my fight against _that man_ was still kicking in. I knew that it wouldn't last of course but right now, it did.

My hands, still trembling like they had never done before, followed the smooth rhythm of the flight. They lingered alongside my body. My legs, strong and adrenalized did exactly what they needed to do. I must have been a strange sight to those who might have seen me, even though there wouldn't be many people here on this early Wednesday evening.

I felt … liberated … and yet so guilty. I had crossed an unforgiving line; the thin red line that some people crossed and others never did. The line where people chose to become murderers, or not.

My guilt was enormous. Not because of what I had done, I was way beyond that, but because of what I was doing to the only people in this world that cared about me. I was abandoning them.

I had no choice.

From this moment on, after the kill, I had become a fugitive. Nobody would believe that I had acted beyond my control, in a range. I could have turned back several times but I didn't. No judge or jury would _not_ convict me after this. I had killed a man with my bare hands and even though he was a ruthless killer who had manipulated tons of people and had killed more than ten innocents, I had still murdered him. The law would state that I should have brought him to justice. Even though there was not a single doubt in anyone's mind, especially not after him faking his own death, that he was in fact the man I had searched for during all these years, it would not rectify what I had done.

I had always said that I would kill him and when we finally met face to face I had known that he would not survive. I had never intended him to live. But I also had not intended my – and his – actions to have such an impact on our lives. I had thought that I would be the sole person punished. The shutting down of the CBI was not included in this package.

I didn't feel guilty over the kill. I couldn't. It had ended my ten year long quest and I had relished the fear in that man's eyes as he lay beyond my hands and begged with his eyes for mercy. Had he had mercy for my child? Had he had mercy when he slaughtered my wife? No. He had taken his time with her, killing her so slowly that she would have suffered beyond any human boundaries. He had slashed her open while she still lived and knew that her own daughter – _our daughter – _lay dead near her, for he had killed my girl first to add extra tragedy to my wife's gruesome death.

Yes, I too carried the blame. I had been arrogant, cocky, confident and full of myself, earning money off desperate people and thriving on their fears. And yes, I would feel that guilt for the rest of my life. But I did not murder a child, so innocent and so pure, or a woman who had been too good for this world. She shouldn't have married me, yet I knew that until her dying breath, she would have loved me, despite my flaws, my cheating and the way that I made my living.

I could and would not ever forgive him for that. I was _glad _that he feared death, as his begging and his scared eyes betrayed. It was the perfect ending to his meaningless, blood-soaked life. In the end, he had been a _coward_. Angela would not have begged for her life nor for her daughter's, but he did. And I was happy for that.

But oh, the guilt, as my throbbing head and tired brain came back into focus and realized that I was still running like a madman. The guilt over Lisbon, Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt, who had all been there for me, giving me the chance to finish this once and for all. I felt oh so guilty for destroying their careers, their way of living. They should not have become involved but chose to do so at their own request. By working with them, I had taken away what was most dear to them.

But I knew that I could not take back what I had done and they had known that too. The CBI was forever gone and so was their partnership. They knew that this was not my fault but Gale Bertram's. Yet it felt as if I had pulled the plug myself.

If, during my entire selfish existence, there was one thing that I could take back, it was the pain I had caused those who cared about me. I didn't deserve their care, did I? Yes, I had rid the world of a bastard but that was all I had done.

Suddenly my legs stopped. Just like that. I could no longer control them and I stumbled forward, suddenly too tired to be able to do anything but sink down to the asphalt and take long, deep breaths. My hands touched the ground, barely feeling the concrete beneath my fingertips. The warm asphalt dug into my hands. It was still very hot out there. I felt like giving in, just dying.

I heard a screeching noise but was too tired to look up. The opening of a car door, footsteps walking towards me. For one second I prayed it was Lisbon but it was a stranger, staring at me with fury in his eyes. "Hey, are you crazy?" he yelled at me. "I almost got you killed! Are you blind?" I noticed the car had stopped within a few inches before me and that I was sitting in the middle of the street.

For one long second I felt regret that he hadn't killed me, just like I hadn't been able to pull the trigger of that gun in my hands while holding it to my head. But at the same time I knew I wanted to live. I had not fought for ten years to catch this man whose name I would never speak out aloud again, to die now. I owed it to my family to live.

"Sorry," I muttered, getting up slowly and praying that my legs would not crumble once more. But they held me up and I was able to stand upright and walk almost normally back to the curb, meanwhile ignoring this stranger who had almost ran me over.

He cursed once more and returned to his car while I sat on the curb and panted. In the far away distance I heard sirens and realized that _the _man's body had been discovered. I didn't have much time to get back in gear and execute the next part of my careful plan.

Despite my throbbing head I was able to focus and look around me, figuring out where I was. Even blindly I had been running in the right direction. It was only a few hundred yards now before I would reach my getaway car that I had left here late last night with the help of Cho.

Yesterday, when I called him and simply said I needed his help, he had come over immediately and picked me up in his own car while leaving the anonymous, black car for which I had paid cash here. I reached into my pocket and took out the key, getting in stiffly. Nobody noticed me and I kept a low profile.

The only thing Cho had asked me yesterday was, "Tell me where you are going and I'll come over as soon as I can."

"No," I had said, handing him one of the two cell phones I had purchased with a disposable number. "I will call you when the time is right. Keep this with you and don't tell anyone about it, not even Lisbon. She would go crazy if she knew."

Cho, as cool as he always was, had simply nodded and tucked away the phone. We all knew that we were being monitored as of now on but I also knew nobody would find the phone on Cho. He would make sure of that.

"You're my lifeline, Cho," I said with a faint grin. "Let's hope I won't be needing it."

"Whenever you need me, I'll be there," Cho replied, meaning it. "Just be careful and don't get killed."

I resisted the urge to call Lisbon once again, using this disposable phone, but thought against it, knowing it would endanger all of us, and started the car. From here on it would be a small but risky trip to leave the city forever and head out East. First stop would be Las Vegas, if I could make it that far.

My entire body was weary now and I knew why. Only I knew why.

Would they show my face on national television? Would they announce I was a murderer? Or would they keep the scandal, after all the other scandals, to themselves and try to fix the Jane-problem internally? Would they hunt me? Or would they let me go? Would they be too busy digging into their own personal problems and fishing out the dirty Blake-crowd, now that they knew what they were looking for? Or would they invest in me and track me down in order to have a scapegoat?

I couldn't tell at this moment. But I wouldn't take the risk of sticking around and finding out.

I had all the money I needed to flee forever and live a comfortable life, taking care of my bank accounts over the past day. After the bomb, I knew that the time had come and I had prepared myself.

And I had taken precautions years ago. Angela's life insurance policy had been slumbering on an anonymous bank account opened under a false name years ago, with millions just sitting there. I could leave the Malibu house and everything I owned behind but I had still taken enough precautions over these past hours to make sure that I had enough cash on me to live for a while. I would travel from motel to motel and pay in cash, using fake ID's that I had tucked away a long time ago and just hiding under the blanket of anonymousness. I had arranged all of this after I killed _him_ the first time around. After my release from prison at that time, I had known I would not survive a second trial. And then the escape plan had kicked into place, just waiting for me to execute it.

Weariness overcame me as I drove out of the city, over broad roads and highways, avoiding small roads and passages where cops or Feds could be waiting for me. I blended in with the commuters until the roads became quieter and I was able to leave the city forever. I would not return here, I knew. The CBI already seemed like years ago, yet only yesterday I had still been part of it.

A few hours passed and darkness fell quickly. I was exhausted. The headache, my abdomen and my tired legs were wearing me down.

My condition had not been the same since the bomb. I had felt like crap ever since Lisbon took me out of the hospital. I had disobeyed doctor's orders of course, even when they called me a few hours later to tell me that X-Rays had shown that I was suffering from internal bruising, possibly a small rupture in my spleen and needed to come back to be monitored and to be examined further. Lisbon didn't know and I hadn't told her. I didn't tell her about the concussion either. Pain was just pain, you could take it and stuff it away in a far corner from your brain while adrenaline kicked in and took over. That's what I had done.

I had only lived for _that man_ whose name I would never mention again for years and now that he had come so close to me, I had felt my senses take over; ignoring the physical aches he had given me after that bomb. He should have killed me then, yet instead chose to toy with me like the pet he thought I was. But pets can get aggressive and bite their bosses.

Finally I could drive no longer. My eyelids drooped; my head was killing me, my entire body felt like it would die immediately if I didn't stop and rest. My hands no longer shook but now felt cramped around the steering wheel. Oh, how I missed my beloved but oh so obvious Citroën.

About three miles down the road I saw the familiar neon sign of a sleazy motel with hardly any cars on the parking lot. Forty bucks a night, the sign read. You couldn't go any cheaper than that. I had to focus on where I was, using the car's battered GPS to orientate myself.

The car came to an abrupt stop, I crawled/fell out and made my way to the worn down reception where a young guy with greasy long hair waited for new arrivals. I barely looked at him and paid in cash for a room with a clean bed and a single table and chair. He didn't care about me and I didn't care about him. People like them saw people from all sorts. He couldn't care less I was still in my suit and looked like a business man with slow growing stubble and eyes that betrayed his exhaustion. Tomorrow he would no longer remember me, just what I needed.

"Room 20," he barked, practically throwing the key at me. "Be out by noon tomorrow."

I grasped the key and stumbled out of his little room, leaving the car parked behind the building at the same spot. I had no luggage. Tomorrow I would find whatever I needed for my new solitary life.

But my head. My abdomen. Oh my body had never ached this much before, not even after the bomb. I knew I had overdone myself, that I had hurt myself once more. I didn't have to be a doctor to see that.

I was just about able to shut the door behind me before I literally sunk through my legs, not even able to reach the bed anymore. My head barely missed the nightstand. My body just gave up. And I fell to the ground on my side, not knowing anything anymore for a very long time.

To be continued …


	2. Chapter 2

**The thin red line (Chapter 2)**

Welcome to my very first The Mentalist fanfic! I haven't written fanfiction in years, but the Red John-storyline and solution of it, got me back in the saddle.

This story is basically a fill-in-the-blanks for the events occurring right after RJ's death and Jane's flight. I couldn't accept the fact that the CBI-gang didn't see each other anymore right after these events and felt an urgent sense to fill in some of the questions lingering about.

So basically, this is my take on the first days after Jane's run and what might have happened afterwards. There are spoilers for:

6x07: The Great Red Dragon

6x08: Red John

Type of story: Angst/Hurt/Comfort

Written from Jane's POV

Characters: Jane, Lisbon, Van Pelt, Rigsby and Cho – in other words, all those that we love and care about.

**Feedback is very much appreciated.** This story is complete so I will be posting a new chapter on a very regular basis.

Thanks for paying attention!

**Thanks for the lovely feedback I've received so far! I promise to post one chapter every day :-)**

**Chapter 2 **

It was the sun that woke me as it shone through the open curtains, blinding me as I lay on the ground. My head kept on pounding and I was barely able to move, my body in full collapse. I knew this was not good. I had never experienced anything like this before.

There was a banging on the door, someone continued to knock constantly in a steady rhythm. Then a voice said, "Cleaning! Can I come in?"

It took me a while to realize that I was in that sleazy motel with the clean bed lying on the dirty carpet. It must have been after noon of the next day or they wouldn't be knocking on the door like this. I had to do something or they would find me lying on the ground and would call a doctor or an ambulance. Beyond any human strength I crawled up and managed somehow to reach the door, standing wavering on my legs but able to unlock the door.

"Cleaning," the woman repeated when she saw me open the door a little. Her plucked eyebrows frowned. "What's going on?"

"I'm sorry," I whispered with hoarse voice, not even faking my illness, "I'm sick. I need to stay one more day. Can you tell the desk clerk that I'll be staying longer?"

She looked at me suspicious, then saw my pale face and tired expression and nodded. "You need to pay upfront in cash."

"Oh. Hang on." I looked behind me, searching for my jacket, only to realize I was still wearing it, and dug out sixty bucks. "Keep the rest," I said hoarsely.

She nodded slowly, a sly grin dancing on her face. "Do you need a doctor?"

"No." I slightly shook my head. "Just a bout of the flu. I'll be fine."

"Okay. If you need anything, press 0 on the phone. "Then she added suspiciously. "You're not on drugs, are you?"

Despite my predicament I smiled. "No."

"And you're not dying?"

"Of course not."

"Good. The boss doesn't like a mess in here. Just call us if you would be dying." She laughed. "Then Jack can drop you off at an ER before you croak."

"That's comforting." I almost grinned. "Thanks."

I slowly shut the door and managed to close the curtains, leaving the too bright sunlight out. Then I sunk back onto the bed and felt my entire body burn. I was running a fever; there was no doubt about that. And it was not a slight fever either. My hands roamed my abdomen, instantly locating the area of bruising. It was swollen and hot to the touch. This was not good. I guess there was no doubt about that small rupture now.

I had never felt so alone. Even though I knew that running would now be a part of my life and I would have to do it without my friends, I couldn't bear to think of a life without them now. I felt tears escape my eyes, crying for the first time in years. Self-pity combined with pain is not a good combination for a man like me. I didn't do self-pity.

I sunk my head into the pillows and tried to find a good position. _I'll get medication, _I reassured myself. _Nothing some painkillers and fever meds won't cure._ I mentally forced my body to heal itself. But I was no doctor and even though my brain registered so much, this, it could not fix.

Sleep came mercifully.

My eyes fought to open themselves. It was very dark in the room, the only light coming in peeped through the curtains. It was a very early sunrise that came in. Another afternoon and night had passed and I was a wreck.

I could barely lift my head. My body shook with fever as it had never done before. This really was not good. I would die in this sleazy motel and they would find my corpse in a few days, already stinking of death. I did _not _want to die, not after all of this!

I stared at the motel's phone standing on the table. I'd die just to crawl over there to dial for help. My body could not move another inch. I had never felt so helpless in my life. That hospital bed looked very inviting right now. Even a nice comfortable FBI holding cell seemed appealing.

_The cell phone_. _Let it still have battery._

It was still stuffed in my coat pocket. I had slept for two days in my entire suit and I couldn't care less. Cho was my lifeline. He was my only chance now.

The battery was running on empty. I didn't have much time. I tried to recall where I had left the cable, feeling for it in my pants' pocket. It was still there. But I couldn't even plug it in.

I tried to remember where I was … _the road, sleazy Night Motel or something_. That's all I knew. The number 20 crept into my mind. My room number?

Cho's number was the only one stored in the phone's register. He picked up after two tones. "Where are you?" he simply said, efficient and strong as ever.

I had to fight to find my voice. I heard someone spell out the address and the number. And that person also said that I was dying. It was my own voice, I knew, but it could have been someone else's. I just knew that I needed help and that he was the only one who could save me.

"I'm coming," was all he said and I knew he would drive like crazy, ignoring all signs, to get here as fast as he could. And doing that, I also knew that he would be able to shake off the Feds in the meantime, if they even bothered to follow him, that is.

I dropped the phone on the bed and tried to ignore the pain, the sickness, the trembling. Somehow I managed to crawl under the sheets and roll myself into a fetal position, waiting, panting, chilling yet sweating and heaving. For how long, I didn't know. Darkness came and I let it.

To be continued


	3. Chapter 3

**The thin red line (Chapter 3)**

Welcome to my very first The Mentalist fanfic! I haven't written fanfiction in years, but the Red John-storyline and solution of it, got me back in the saddle.

This story is basically a fill-in-the-blanks for the events occurring right after RJ's death and Jane's flight. I couldn't accept the fact that the CBI-gang didn't see each other anymore right after these events and felt an urgent sense to fill in some of the questions lingering about.

So basically, this is my take on the first days after Jane's run and what might have happened afterwards. There are spoilers for:

6x07: The Great Red Dragon

6x08: Red John

Type of story: Angst/Hurt/Comfort

Written from Jane's POV

Characters: Jane, Lisbon, Van Pelt, Rigsby and Cho – in other words, all those that we love and care about.

**Feedback is very much appreciated.** This story is complete so I will be posting a new chapter on a very regular basis.

Thanks for paying attention!

**Thanks for the lovely feedback I've received so far! I promise to post one chapter every day :-)**

**Chapter 3 **

How long has it been since I slept? I didn't know.

The next thing I knew there was a hard knock, voices, then someone who pushed a key into the lock and the opening of a door. I was still lying on that bed, my back towards the door and I couldn't move.

Someone said, "Thanks" and I heard the rustling of crispy bills.

Someone else said, "if he's going to die, then don't do it here. I hate it when that happens. Get him out of here before it's too late."

Someone else said ,"How considerate," her voice almost spitting out the words in pure contempt for the lack of sympathy coming from the desk clerk's voice.

Another voice came closer to the bed to stare at me. "Oh my god," she said. "is he - ?"

And another voice said, "No, but he's burning up. Jesus, what the hell happened?"

Two female voices, two male voices that I knew so well from all of our years of working together. They were all here. For me. I could have cried had I not been so sick.

I tried to open my eyes and look at them, never before so grateful for their presence, but I couldn't even do that. I just lay there, waiting for them to make a first move and help me.

"Get those blankets and sheets off him," a female voice instructed. "Cho, run a bath. Rigsby, help me get him up. We need to get that fever down before he has a seizure." That was Lisbon, beyond a doubt, forever the boss, always the one in charge who took all the decisions. I loved her for being so bossy.

"He needs a hospital, not a bath." That was Cho, rational and cool as ever.

"We'll deal with that later," Lisbon said. "First we have to get that fever done. It's spiking."

"In a hospital he'll be helped immediately," Rigsby objected, agreeing with Cho.

"We can't take him there. They'll find out immediately and arrest him." That was Van Pelt.

"Better to be arrested than to be dead," Rigsby argued.

"They won't find him if they don't know. He's going to die here if we don't take him to an ER immediately." Rigsby.

"And then he'll die rotting away in a jail cell," his wife replied. "Isn't that why he ran in the first place?"

"Stop it!" Lisbon almost yelled. "You're both right, but he wouldn't want us to take him to a hospital or he would have gone himself. He has a fake license in his wallet. "Let's deal with this argument later. First we need to get that fever down. And I need to think. So stop arguing."

"Sorry," Rigsby muttered. "You're right, boss."

I could almost hear Lisbon smile, knowing just much as her that she was no longer their boss.

Then Van Pelt said slowly, "I'll go run that bath."

I felt the sheets and blankets being taken away from me. I wanted to hold onto them but couldn't. It was so cold … but they were merciless. I was still lying there in my suit and even my shoes. I felt my body being turned aside.

Small, familiar hands were placed on my face, touching both cheeks and tapping them slightly. "Jane. Jane, it's us. Can you hear us?" Her voice, so gentle and so concerned. I could have wept out of pure happiness that I was no longer alone.

I managed to open my eyes for one brief moment, seeing a vague vision of all of them. "Hey guys," I said with a faint grin. "Thanks for coming."

Lisbon smiled, despite everything. "What happened? Where you shot? Did he hurt you? Are you injured somewhere?"

I shook my head slightly, my hand slowly touching my abdomen. "I'm sorry Lisbon … for not telling you."

"Sorry?" Lisbon didn't understand at first until Cho unbuttoned my shirt and they saw it, the black and purple bruises as a sign of internal bleeding. I had hidden it so well.

"Oh my god," Van Pelt said, returning from the bathroom. "When did that happen?"

"The bomb," I whispered. "Doctor called me later … X-Rays, small rupture in spleen. Guess I overdid it. Should have gone back … didn't."

"They said you were fine," Lisbon said, realization kicking in. "Just some bruising. I let you leave that hospital! You said you were fine…"

"Just some bruising," I smiled, despite the situation we were in. "Yep." The pain was unbearable when I moved even the slightest, watching Lisbon's face as she realized I had lied for days, concealing my injuries deliberately from her.

"Damn it," Lisbon muttered, knowing all too well that she had needed my help to catch _that man_. And she had ignored the signs because we didn't have time.

"It's not your fault," I whispered, grabbing her arm. "Lisbon, it was me."

She nodded quietly but I could see the emotions raging her face.

"Hospital it is then," Cho said. "We can't fix a rupture with some fever medication."

"No," I objected. "No hospital."

"You will die when you bleed like that. It could already be too late."

"Call someone on the black market. Get him here. He'll fix me up." I focused on Cho. "You know where to go. You have … names." I closed my eyes. Lisbon shook me slightly, bringing me back into perspective.

"He'll die if we bring some butcher here." Van Pelt.

"No, he won't. I have someone in mind. Might have an idea." Cho.

"And have him operate on him _here_?" Van Pelt almost shouted. "In this room?"

"Like I said, I have an idea. Let me make some phone calls. Alright boss?"

Despite the silence I could almost hear Lisbon nod. "Do it."

Cho walked outside immediately, using the disposable phone I had given him to make untraced phone calls.

Then Lisbon's voice came, stressed and at the same time as calm as I had ever heard her. "Jane knew that he would be taking risks the moment he killed that man. He's a man on the run now and they will capture him and lock him up." I felt her hand on my cheek. "Jane, are you sure you want this?"

I nodded.

"Okay then," she sighed. "Rigsby, Van Pelt, help me."

With that, I felt that I was being lifted. My head slumped forward and every single move cut through me like a knife but I was too tired to care or even to wince. Grace and Lisbon held me up while Rigsby undressed me. I was embarrassed, yet couldn't care less. It was as if the women didn't even notice that I was naked as the three of them lifted me up and then placed me gently into the cooling bath. It felt oh so good, even if my body was cringing from cold sweat and fevers.

Van Pelt, considerate as ever, had even poured some shower soap in so that my lower body was covered in bubbles. I almost laughed at their discretion.

My head leaned against the cold edge. Grace sponged my forehead while Lisbon paced the room restlessly, biting her nails, a habit of hers she only performed under strong stress. I had seen her bite her nails after the bomb too, as she waited impatiently for me to get dressed then.

"Don't bite your nails," I whispered.

She looked at me. "You're dying. I can bite whatever the hell I want."

"I'm not dying."

She made a face, both of us knowing that wasn't true. Her common sense was fighting her emotions. She knew she should bring me to a hospital no matter what. We both knew that. But she also knew that I wouldn't be able to talk myself out of this one. I had killed that man with my bare hands. Bullets, I could have explained. Self-defense and all. But strangulation? That went beyond anything. It was revenge, pure and simple. No regrets.

"How have you guys been?" I asked.

The three of them stared at me as if I had gone crazy.

"Erm – fine, I guess," Grace finally muttered. "Out of a job, out of the CBI, but fine."

"I'm sorry about that," I replied. "If only Bertram hadn't been one of them."

"The FBI would have shut us down anyway," Lisbon interrupted me. "It was just a matter of time. They hated our guts for a long time. Jobs are just jobs, we'll find something else."

I almost laughed at that. "Time for a new beginning."

"Not a bad prospect," Lisbon reacted.

My lungs had trouble taking in enough air. I felt like I was choking. The fevers that ran through my veins were so high that I knew nothing would save me except for a decent surgeon and the right medication. I closed my eyes, forcing to ignore the pain.

"Let's get him out," Van Pelt said, "This isn't helping."

Lisbon felt my forehead. "He's cooled down a little. Where the hell is Cho?"

The three of them looked at me lying in that bathtub. I hesitated. Even during the worst hours of my life, my brain, my work tool, my income, was still functioning in some ways. It was Lisbon that finally brought me over the edge.

"He'll be fine," she kept on muttering while biting down on her nails as if she was reassuring herself and us. "He has to be fine."

And I remembered then how concerned she had been in the hospital, when I woke up after the bomb. She had saved my life, not even knowing it at that moment. If she hadn't walked in when Bertram was there, I wouldn't even be here right now. _That man_ would still be alive and I would be gone. And she would been the one forever haunted by the 'what if's' that I have asked myself every single day after that fateful night that I acted like the arrogant bastard that I was.

I knew I had put her through hell. That alone was enough for me to hold on to life. If I died now , her life would be destroyed. She would forever be questioning whether she did the right thing. I couldn't do that to her.

"Take me to a hospital," I said, caving in. "You are right. I'll die here. To hell with the Feds."

They looked at me and nodded. Rigsby was the one who took the towels and started to dry me off while the two women walked into the bedroom. He looked at me as he helped me get dressed in my boxershorts, trousers and dirty shirt. Then he nodded slowly. "You are going to make it. Like hell we'll let you die."

I smiled wearily, despite everything. "Thanks Wayne."

I could barely stand or sit up straight while he dressed me. And then I felt myself sliding into his arms, him holding me before I struck my head on the edge of the bath.

I could hear him say, "I need help! He's not breathing!"

And then I was no more.


	4. Chapter 4

**The thin red line (Chapter 4)**

Welcome to my very first The Mentalist fanfic! I haven't written fanfiction in years, but the Red John-storyline and solution of it, got me back in the saddle.

This story is basically a fill-in-the-blanks for the events occurring right after RJ's death and Jane's flight. I couldn't accept the fact that the CBI-gang didn't see each other anymore right after these events and felt an urgent sense to fill in some of the questions lingering about.

So basically, this is my take on the first days after Jane's run and what might have happened afterwards. There are spoilers for:

6x07: The Great Red Dragon

6x08: Red John

Type of story: Angst/Hurt/Comfort

Written from Jane's POV

Characters: Jane, Lisbon, Van Pelt, Rigsby and Cho – in other words, all those that we love and care about.

**Feedback is very much appreciated.** This story is complete so I will be posting a new chapter on a very regular basis.

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**Chapter 4 **

I wish I could reassure you all that I saw the light and that my wife and child were waiting for me on the other side. But there was nothing but a sort of deep sleep, a darkness so still that it felt like you were all alone.

The only thing I heard was a sort of pounding; and blurred voices that seemed to come through a fog. I had been in cardiac arrest before, when I drowned, but this was different.

"Not now," I heard someone say. "Come on, Jane. Come on!"

I coughed and spat as another pound on my chest brought my heart back to life. I could feel hands on my face, a mouth on my mouth. It was Grace who breathed air into my lungs and Rigsby whose actions had resuscitated me.

"He's back," Rigsby replied with a sigh, wiping the sweat off his face.

I could see Lisbon clutching her necklace, knowing she had prayed for me.

I didn't need to ask what happened. My heart was weak. In a few hours I would be dead.

Just as they tried to lift me back on the bed, the door flung open and Cho stood there, his eyes bright and almost excited. "We have to go," he said, "Now."

His voice, demanding and strong, made the others move at once. Since there wasn't anything to take except for my jacket, we left instantly. I blinked against the bright and fiery sunlight, unable to stare straight ahead and kept my head down as I hung between Cho and Rigsby like a rag doll.

"We'll take him to the jeep," Cho instructed as he guided Rigsby and I towards the large car with which they had come. It was Cho's jeep.

Lisbon opened the back door, watching while Cho and Rigsby gently placed me on the leather back seat.

"Rigsby, Van Pelt, you take Jane's car and follow us," he instructed. They just nodded and did what was asked.

Cho then got in behind the wheel. Lisbon walked around the car and opened the other door, sliding in on the backseat where she gently placed my head on her lap and stroked my hear. My arms lay around my abdomen, clutching my belly tightly. Her comforting gestures soothed me. We knew we didn't have much time left. Her greatest fear was that I would go into cardiac arrest again in the car.

Lisbon silently told Cho what had happened. He cursed slightly. "Sorry it took me so long, I had to make a lot of phone calls but they are expecting us now. It's quicker to drive ourselves than to wait for them."

"Where are we going?" Lisbon asked concerned.

"A friend of a friend of a friend told us to get to a small hospital nearby. Another friend is a general surgeon there and he's really good. It's a small local hospital but they'll be able to help and they won't know quickly if Jane is wanted."

"What's our story?"

"He had an accident a few days ago and was released from hospital, fell and hurt himself again. Woke up this morning in his room like this and called us. The ER staff is waiting for us. He'll be looked after immediately."

"Are we going in as the CBI?" Lisbon asked concerned. "Won't they find that suspicious?"

"We will be going as CBI and no, they won't find that strange as I told them we were investigating a case nearby. This is still our jurisdiction. To the outside world we are still active. Officially our resignations and the end of the CBI haven't been announced yet. They won't know. And if you act as always, they won't even question our story."

"Yeah Lisbon, be the boss," I muttered, only to feel her eyes lingering on me.

"Shut up, Jane," she said with a smile in her voice. Our eyes connected and we both knew that we depended on each other so much that it would be hard to let go. As strange as it may seem under these circumstances, I was somehow strangely happy that this had happened, that we still had the chance to see each other once more.

"How much further?" she asked Cho.

"Fifteen minutes. We're almost there."

Slowly the car rocked me to sleep – or was it unconsciousness? – Yet every single time I could feel Lisbon's hand on my cheek, tapping me back to alertness. "Don't sleep," she said.

"I'm tired."

"I know, but you might not wake up."

Her voice was so calm, so straightforward, that I realized she could be right. If I let myself go now, I could be gone forever. So I focused on the seat ahead of me and counted the small leather dots that were pressed into the fabric. By the time we got there, I had counted eighty-nine.

The jeep stopped. I heard a flurry of voices, the opening of doors and people crawling into the back of the large vehicle to take a look at me.

"Internal bleeding - could be the spleen. Healing head trauma; spiking fevers; has gone into cardiac arrest. He's very, very sick." I didn't know who was saying this. I just knew that there were men in white suits and people hovering over me.

Somehow they lifted me out of the car without much difficulty. I was strapped on a gurney, wheeled into an ER. Then came a flurry of activity. "Let's get moving folks," someone said and he ordered around his nursing staff that did their jobs.

Oxygen, the pain of an IV being stuck into my hand on the exact same spot as the last one, monitors and the beeping of machines … it all faded away in one big pile of noise. The last time I was in a hospital, I didn't know anything about their tests because I had been out of it. Now I stayed awake and just listened to what they said. A portable X-Ray and ultrasound had to confirm their diagnosis.

"Bleeding spleen, it's been fully ruptured. You said he was still alert and speaking before? A small miracle on its own. We have to go in. High risk, fevers, careful monitoring, ICU after surgery. We'll do it now. Fevers will go down once the spleen is out. We can't wait for that."

I constantly heard Lisbon say, "Alright. Okay. Alright. Just do whatever it takes."

My clothes were long gone, having been cut open by the nursing staff. On a gurney, in a hospital gown, IV in my veins, oxygen mask on my face, I was prepared for emergency surgery. I saw my friends, former colleagues, hover over me as my tired eyes tried to fight back sleep.

Grace smiled gently, "You'll be fine, Jane. People like you don't die." She kissed me briefly on my cheek. Rigsby laid his hand on my arm for one second. "Hey man, you'll make it. Go get them." Cho reacted with a, "Of course he will," and kept his distance. And then there was Lisbon whose eyes were brimming with tears. She must have been so exhausted. "You didn't survive that bomb to die now. We'll see you when you get back. I'll be here."

And then they were gone and I was wheeled away with a crazy speed – or so it seemed – towards an elevator. There were three people going with me, constantly monitoring my condition. I was too tired by now to even give witty responses. Then the gurney was brought down to the cellar where a number of surgeons and a nursing staff waited. Another mask replaced the other one on my face, another push of medication in my IV to make sure that I slept. And before I could even say anything, I was gone. Just like that.


	5. Chapter 5

Thank you so much for reviewing this story. I was really nervous posting it at first, as I haven't done fanfiction in so many years. And now I'm swamped with new ideas ... please let me know if you feel I should continue writing Mentalist Fanfiction, your feedback is very much appreciated!

(and so are you very positive words :-))

**Chapter 5 **

Beeping sounds … all around me there were beeping sounds.

Medical staff walked in and out of the small cubicle that was my own little ICU unit. Every ten minutes or so I was checked, prodded, examined, over and over again. Sometimes I heard sounds coming from other cubicles, other times it seemed as if I was all alone in there.

I fell in and out of consciousness, couldn't keep my eyes open and just slept, slept, slept. There were weird dreams and then there was only the dark. My life consisted of waking and sleeping, waking and dreaming.

I knew they were breathing for me. A tube was inside my throat, pushing oxygen inside. An IV pushed fluids into me, wires were hooked onto machines to make sure I didn't die on them.

Until finally, at some point, my eyelids weren't as heavy anymore and I managed to open them for longer than a few seconds.

"Look who's awake," a nurse said, hovering over me. "How do you feel, Mr. Jane?"

I hesitated at that question. How_ was_ I feeling? Not too bad, actually. The pain in my abdomen was gone, except for a slight sting when I moved. My head was not pounding as much, just heavy from the medication. I could slowly start to bring my thoughts together.

"Thirsty," I finally said.

"Now that's a good sign. Here." I wasn't allowed water but received some ice-chips instead that melted on my tongue. It tasted like heaven. I hadn't eaten or drank in days.

"How long …?" I asked as she took care of me like a mother hen took care of her chicks. Her hands were busy fluffing my pillows, straightening my sheets and blankets and rearranging the wires and tubes so I could lie more comfortably.

"Almost three days. You were brought in on a Friday, it's Monday afternoon now. We took out your respiratory tube about an hour ago. You were showing signs of waking up then and breathing on your own. Do you remember anything from being here?"

I thought about that and shook my head. "Just vague stuff."

"You'll be off some of these wires pretty soon now that you're awake and so alert." Her eyes monitored me. "Your friends said you had an extraordinary brain, I must say that I agree with them. You are very, very alert."

I tried to smile, wondering what else they had said about me. "Am I here alone?"

She smiled. "I wouldn't say that. Your boss has been hovering over you for days, she wouldn't leave for a minute."

"Lisbon? Teresa Lisbon?"

"Yes, Teresa, very nice woman. Hadn't slept at all, stubborn as she was, but one of our doctors gave her a sedative and she's slept for a day in a room upstairs to recuperate under the promise we would wake her up as soon as you did. She should be around now, I think I saw her down the hall a few moments ago."

"Oh yeah," I responded with a smile. "I have no doubt about that."

As if she heard, Lisbon walked into the small cubicle holding a cup of coffee. Her face, oh my, that grin, that said it all. That smile when she saw me awake. She was my best friend, probably the person who meant the most to me and I cared for her more than I cared for my own life. How I would miss that smile.

She placed down her cup and hurried towards my bed, her hands resting gently on my arm. "You're okay," she said gently. "You're in the hospital and you'll be fine."

"His fever's down," the nurse said with a satisfied smile. "He's alert and talking a lot of sense. I'll fetch a doctor."

She left us alone and we just looked at each other and grinned stupidly, both happy that we had survived this.

"You're fine and nobody knows that you are here," she said. "So far, we've been very lucky. I've been officially released from the CBS. The entire team has been officially fired. They've cleaned out everything by now. The others returned to Sacramento to pack up their things while I stayed here. We've covered our tracks. I've left a note for Abbott that I've gone on vacation. They're currently not looking for you, they don't know what to do with you yet. They're too busy arresting all the bastards that were part of the Black Association." She smiled lightly. "Apparently someone made an anonymous phone call to the press informing them about the conspiracy. So the big shots are busy working on damage control."

"Someone?" I asked, raising my eyebrow. "Miss Lisbon, have you been disobedient?"

She laughed. "No, it wasn't me, but I do have a friend of a friend of a friend …"

Her flurry of information came in a rush. I had no difficulty digesting it. "So I'm free?"

She frowned slightly. "I wouldn't say that. There's a big argument going on with the Feds, or so it seems. They're upset because of the events. They're still deciding to consider you a fugitive, a murder, or the man who saved probably a lot of people. They're embarrassed. The Black Association is big, Jane. Huge. They're uncovering gory details. Right now they have other concerns than you. But I was tipped off that they will probably not let this one go."

"I know," I interrupted her calmly. "I will still have to run."

She nodded lightly.

I felt my thoughts fade away as I lay there, knowing that sleep would take me over again soon. But I wanted to hold on to that moment for a while longer, knowing that soon, I might never see her again.

"Jane," she said, her face close to me. "It will be fine. Somehow, it will be."

With that, I allowed myself to sleep once more while she grabbed a chair and sat by my side, just waiting. She had no place else to go.

What a difference three days make.

I was released from the ICU within 24 hours after my first waking up and brought to a semi-guarded room where I could continue to heal from my wounds. Every single hour I started to feel better. My first cup of tea … my god, as if I had never tasted that lovely taste before.

I knew I could not yet get away but it wouldn't be long now. The past two days I had focused on recovery so I could leave as soon as my body would allow me too. The first time out of bed was hard, the second one much better and by the third time I felt as if a newfound strength was pouring into me.

Lisbon, the fired ex-CBI agent who had worked so much for her career and fought so long for other people's lives, sat by my side all the time during those days. She helped me out of bed and shuffle around like a ninety year old. When things got better and better, she smiled and congratulated me.

She couldn't care less anymore, knowing she didn't have a job or a home to go to. Those hours spent in that small local hospital with her, were some of the best moments of my life. During those hours we could forget that I was a pariah now, a man without a home or a place to go to. Yet a man freed in his mind forever. No one could ever take that away from me.

We knew it couldn't last of course. All of this was unreal and not part of the real world where enemies lured around every corner. This was just a temporary moment in our lives before we would all head into a new existence.

Rigsby and Van Pelt were the first to return. They had literally packed up their belongings and their lives in California and were planning to go the East Coast. They looked happy, almost liberated. Had my quest had such a great impact on them that they had felt imprisoned? Or was it the realization that they could now be themselves without their bosses lingering over them? This was true happiness. For the first time they were acting like the married couple they were. They no longer had concerns apart from what they would have to do now for a living. In my mind I had made the decision to wire them money to restart their lives. They wouldn't know it had come from me.

"I'm thinking long holiday first, then setting up our own company", Rigsby said proudly. "I've always wanted to be a private detective. Now nothing is holding us back."

Grace smiled, holding onto her husband. That smile of hers had been with us for too little lately. I felt that the ghosts from her past had finally faded away. "And I've always wanted to be a mother."

Shocked and very surprised Lisbon stared at them. "No," she said, "Really?"

"Uh huh." Grace nodded, padding her stomach slightly. There wasn't a bulge to be seen yet but we knew her baby was already growing in there.

I smiled a knowing smile when they looked at me. Her grin faded for a moment. "You already knew?"

I shrugged. "I'm sorry, Grace. You had this aura over you."

"Please don't tell me that you know the gender already too!"

I laughed. "I'm not a psychic, remember?" _It's a girl._

"Damn you, Jane," Grace muttered but she laughed. "Why can't we keep anything from you, not even when you are sick as hell?"

"Congratulations, Grace," I just replied. "I'm happy for you guys."

After that, we talked about just about anything except our past. It felt good to leave that behind us. But then Cho came in.


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you so much for your lovely reviews! I hope that you enjoyed this story. I'm currently writing a new story and will be posting that soon. Thanks again!**

**Chapter 6 **

We knew at once that Cho brought bad news with him. He seemed stressed, even for him.

"I have news," he said seriously. "You need to leave as soon as you can. They have decided to track you down and press charges. It will become official tomorrow. One of my contacts called me to warn us off. They are going to let us go because we weren't there during the … the attack. But you are going to be charged with First Degree Murder because of the strangulation."

Even though I had known instinctively that this would come – it was the reason why I had run in the first place – it still came as a shock that the Feds would pursue this after all we had revealed.

My survival instinct became active. "Alright, I have to go," I said, getting up.

"Not yet," Lisbon reacted. "You need a few more days of rest."

"I'll rest in motel but I must leave this hospital now before they spread the APB. By tomorrow evening every single doctor in this country will be on the lookout for me. I need a head start."

The four them looked at each other and then at me. Then Lisbon nodded slowly. "You're right. You have go to. And I'll go with you."

"No, Lisbon." I looked at her, resisting the urge to accept her offer. Her face looked so hurt it ached inside. "If you come with me, you'll be a fugitive for the rest of your life. You still have a life ahead here and I won't let you blow that up because of me."

"I don't care, Jane. I don't have anywhere to go anyhow."

"Yes, you have. You can find a new job, a new life, somewhere else. Think about it, Lisbon. You are the best person I've ever worked with. You can do that again, in a different way. I won't let you throw your life away." I forced her to listen and to look at me, using my senses and my abilities to talk sense into her.

Reluctantly she nodded. "Then don't run either. Face the music. A jury will set you free."

"No, they won't. Not a second time."

Cho, always the rational one, dropped a bag of clothes on the bed and ended our discussion. "I picked up some stuff for you in a store, took a guess on the size. They should fit. They're not your usually style, I'm afraid."

I glanced into the bag and found T-shirts, a jacket and two jeans, perfect for a runaway.

"Thanks Cho," I simply said, pushing aside the sheets and blankets of my hospital bed. I slowly placed my feet on the ground and felt good. I was strong, stronger than I had been in a long time. Six days of forced rest had helped me. I was going to become a new man, a free man.

I changed clothes in the bathroom, looking at my unshaven face. My eyes were bright and focused. I was becoming myself again. The darkness had washed away. Yes, I could do this. The time to say goodbye had come.

I left the bathroom and saw the four of them standing there, knowing I would never again see them like this. But they would remain friends and they would keep contact and create a strong bond that would go beyond the CBI. And perhaps one day our paths would cross again.

"Your car is in the parking lot," Cho said. "Its tank is full. You can drive straight through to the middle of the country if you want to. Are you up for that?"

"Yeah, I am," I said confidently.

"What are you going to do?" Lisbon asked, fear in her voice. She hadn't wanted to ask this question before, afraid of it.

"I'm going to travel around the country for a couple of months," I said, "until it all dies down a bit. I'll go from motel to motel, keeping a low profile. Then I'm going to a place where they can't extradite me. They'll have lowered their guards by then. It'll be easy."

"And then what? Run away for the rest of your life? Travel around the world?" Lisbon sounded desperate, eager to stop me. It was the reason why I had given that cell phone to Cho instead of her in the first place. Cho was rational enough to let me know, she was too emotionally involved not to.

I looked directly at Lisbon. "Lisbon," I said gently. "Teresa … You know I'm not a runner. We will see each other again, perhaps sooner than you think. I swear to you that I won't abandon you. I'll write you letters. But trust me when I say that one day we will meet again."

She nodded, on the verge of anger, frustration and pain. "Promise me we will."

"I promise." I grasped her shoulders and pulled her against me like I had done on that evening when the sunset came upon us. "I won't abandon you. And besides," I whispered in her ear, "… I have a plan."

She smiled against my shoulder. "Of course you have."

I let go of her reluctantly and looked at the others, kissing Grace, hugging Rigsby awkwardly and patting Cho on the shoulder. "Thank you," I said. "Thank you for saving my life. So many times."

They smiled and just nodded. "Take care of yourself," Cho said. "Don't get into trouble. Enjoy life for once."

"I will," I swore, because I would. I was free.

The five of us left that hospital in silence, almost sneaking out. We couldn't say our goodbyes for they would not let me leave. By my car, they just looked at me as I got in. I drove away without one glance back. I knew that I would weep if I did.

Our goodbyes were as our relationship had been: Professional, caring, strong and above all with trust.

We would see each other again. Of that, I had no doubt. But it would not be now and it would not be on the terms of others. It would be on my terms. "I will write, Lisbon," I said aloud. "I swear."

I felt whole. Complete. Strong. Ready to move on.

I knew this as I headed out of that sleepy town with that small hospital where good doctors had saved my life. I knew that as I left my friends and my past behind. I was heading out East, towards the unknown. Towards a future that I could completely decide for myself.

The End


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